Are Second Chances Cat-astrophies?
by ValiantJokingThorn
Summary: Centuries have passed since the Company of Thorin Oakenshield passed into the afterlife without their burglar. Now they're back and they have to help heal the one they wronged so very long ago. That might be easier said than done.
1. Chapter 1

This is cross-posted on AO3 as a gift for lasttoknow. It's based on her story "2/9 lives of cats." It's a good read. This whole idea was completely her idea.

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Much had been written about the Halls of Mahal, where the souls of Mahal's children would go to await the remaking of the world. The stories spoke of halls filled with glowing light, of endless arrays of forges and workshops where Dwarrow could work on whatever craft their hearts desired. Grand feasts would go on eternally in massive banquet halls and all of the family and friends who had passed on before you would be waiting there.

The last thing he remembered was falling asleep in his bed, an old lonely dwarf far past his prime with a lifetime of regrets and sorrows weighing down his once strong shoulders. Dwalin peered around him uneasily, senses straining to make out anything of the darkness that surrounded him on all sides. There was no light, no sound and to his sorrow, no sign of his family or friends.

If this was the afterlife, then someone somewhere had gotten their information very, very wrong.

"They were not wrong," a voice rumbled, bringing to mind the heat of a forge and the sound of swords striking against shields," My Halls are as they have been described."

"Lord Mahal," Dwalin stuttered, falling to his knees in obeisance," What is…? Why…? I do not understand My Lord."

"You have been denied entrance into my Halls, Dwalin son of Fundin," the voice rumbled, seeming unaware of the way his creation gasped in horror," and not just you. You and the Company of Thorin Oakenshield have done something that few have ever been able to do. You have aroused the anger of my wife and consort Yavanna and it is she who has asked me to do this thing."

"My Lord, I do not understand," he rasped as his eyes flickered around, trying desperately to pinpoint where the voice was coming from in the surrounding void." Why is your Queen so angry? What have we done to merit such a punishment as this?"

The voice was silent for a moment before speaking a single name that caused Dwalin's entire world to come to a frozen halt.

"Bilba Baggins."

And then Dwalin understood.

His mind was transported back to that terrible day so many years ago. He remembered the overwhelming sorrow as he watched Fili's execution by Azog. But there had been no time to truly mourn the young Prince, there was still a battle to be fought.

At the battle's end, more grief was piled upon him when he learned of the deaths of Kili and Thorin. His king and his cousins, all taken from the world far too soon; ending the last true line of Durin's descendants forever. He had taken a walk then, trying desperately to wrap his still battle addled mind around the fact that they were gone. That he hadn't been fast or strong enough to save them. His legs carried him across the snow-covered battlefield, between the bodies of elves, men, dwarves, and orcs that still covered the battlefield. He was near to the foot of Ravenhill before he finally came back to himself.

How he wished he hadn't.

She looked so afraid, he thought as he stared uncomprehendingly at the small figure lying in a pool of her own blood. Wide golden-flecked hazel eyes that once blazed with fire or sparkled with mirth were dull and lifeless; forever imprinted with what could only have been fear. Bright golden hair had become matted with blood and dirt, changing its color into something nearly unrecognizable to his eyes.

He had wanted to reach out and shake her, beg her to wake up to return to him once more. He had so much he wanted, needed, to apologize for; so many things he needed to say, so many things he had to tell her.

And now he would never get the chance.

All because of the grotesque shaft of an orc spear that had pierced her leg hard enough to trap her to the frozen earth while she slowly bled to death from a nicked artery. It was a slow death, a cold one with no one by her side to comfort her as she had passed from this world into whatever afterlife that Hobbits had. She hadn't had that, hadn't had what should be allowed for every being in the world as they passed.

She had died alone.

It took a while for his mind to register the almost inhuman keening that filled the air around him. It took him even longer and the arrival of his older brother for him to understand that the noise was coming from his own lips. The cry of a soul now bereft of its other half, its One.

Dwalin shuddered as he forcibly pulled his mind back to his current situation. It did not good to dwell on the past; Bilba had been gone from his side for many years. He would never see her again.

"Don't be too sure, son of Fundin," the voice said as if its owner had read his mind.

"My Lord?"

"It has taken me some time due to my wife's fury at you and your companions, but I have managed to convince her to give all of you a second chance. After all, you are all my children."

"A second chance," Dwalin whispered, trying desperately to curtail the tentative wisps of hope that were trying to rise in his heart.

"Yes my son, a second chance," Mahal answered and Dwalin slowly became aware of a pair of golden eyes that were becoming visible through the haze," A chance for you, all of you, to see your Hobbit once more."

"Thank you, My Lord," Dwalin whispered hoarsely, bowing his head to the shadowy figure of his creator that was now revealed to his gaze," With all my heart I thank you and Lady Yavanna."

"It will not be easy, son of Fundin. The world beyond has changed much in the time you have spent here. What seems like mere moments to you has been millennia to Arda. The ages of Elves, Hobbits, and Dwarves have long been over. Now it is the age of Men and Men alone.

It is to this age that Bilba Baggins has been reborn, and to where you will all be sent. However, you will not be Dwarrow anymore, though upon your second death you will still be allowed back into my Halls as my children."

"So we will be Men then?"

A chuckle filled the air before darkness swallowed him once more.

"Not quite."

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.

.

It was raining when Dwalin opened his eyes once more. Blinking he lay there on the hard stone ground, ignoring the feeling of rainwater soaking through his furs. Mahal must have seen fit to give him back his old clothes. His eyes trailed over his surroundings, over strange contraptions that were apparently called cars (praise Mahal for the information he had placed in the dwarf's head) and up to the slightly blurred lampposts that brightened the sidewalk.

It was too big, he decided as he lifted his head from the cement. The buildings were too tall and everything too dark, too new. But it was a second chance for him, a second chance for all of them, and he would do his best to make good use of every second he had been gifted. With a sigh, he tried to heave himself upright on onto his own two feet.

His legs seemed to collapse in on himself and he found himself on hands and knees once more. Grumbling he glanced down and nearly collapsed in shock. Instead of large scarred hands and booted feet, he found four furry paws attached to four equally fuzzy legs. A glance behind him showed that he also had a stubby tail as well.

_I guess this is what Mahal meant that we wouldn't be Men when we returned, _Dwalin thought dizzily to himself_. _

His hindquarters hit the ground with a firm thump as he tried to pull himself back together. He was a warrior, a descendant of the line of Durin, and a dwarf (well cat) and he'd be damned if he would let something like being turned into a feline stop him from completing his mission. He'd find Bilba, he'd find the others, and then he would try his absolute best to make up to Bilba everything he hadn't done as a Dwarf. He would stay by her side for the rest of his life and give her all the love he could, even if he was forced to remain as a cat.

A loud honk of a car horn brought him back from his internal musings and back to his current situation. He was a cat alone in a world that was far too big for one such as him. He didn't know where Bilba or any of the others were or when he'd see them again. He felt his eyes sting and grumbled deep in his throat. He was a warrior, a full-grown adult; he wasn't going to cry like a young child at a situation he couldn't change. He wasn't going to cry.

He would deny to his dying day that some of the raindrops falling to the pavement weren't raindrops at all.

It took a bit before he realized that water was no longer soaking through his fur. Puzzled, he twisted his head around and came eye level with a pair of brown boots. His gaze trailed up to where knee-high boots gave way to a glimpse of skin that morphed into a beautiful yellow dress. He followed the dress up to the face of the person wearing it.

Oh, that face.

Familiar gold-flecked hazel eyes stared at him curiously. Her blonde hair was braided in a single long plait that hung over the shoulder of her brown leather jacket, clean of the debris that had dirtied it so many centuries ago. A mournful noise escaped his mouth as he stared up at his burglar.

_Praise be to Mahal and Yavanna_, he thought as she knelt down in front of him and extended her hand_, Thank you._

"Well hello there handsome, what are you doing out alone in this weather?" she asked and oh if hearing that well-remembered voice wasn't the most wonderful thing he'd heard in his life," Why did your owner leave you out here? Are you lost?"

She ran her delicate fingers under his chin and down his throat, obviously looking for a collar. Instead, he started purring in contentment at the slight petting.

"Well, no collar and you've obviously been sitting out in the rain for a while. How would you like to come home with me? I've got plenty of space."

Dwalin chirped happily and reached up to rest his front paws on her knees, eyes bright with hope and happiness.

Bilba laughed a familiar and well-loved thing, and reached out to awkwardly scoop him up onto her shoulder. It was a bit of a struggle considering that he was rather large and heavy for a cat and she was trying to desperately juggle the handle of her bright green umbrella so that both of them didn't get drenched.

In the end, they managed though, and Dwalin found himself happily purring as they made their way towards their new home.


	2. Chapter 2

"It's actually a really nice place to live," Bilba chattered to Dwalin as she swept them both inside the lobby of her apartment building," The rent's fair for this part of the city, and I have a rooftop apartment, which is absolutely amazing! The building's owner, Mr. Grey, gave me the keys to the roof and I have such lovely views of the river and park from there and my balcony. A rather odd man him, why just last week he had someone come out and enclose my entire roof with a fine mesh, which is fine, I asked him to after all. But then he also had them enclose the fire escape stairs leading to the roof and part of my balcony, which seemed quite odd to me. And then he finished it off by telling me that I needed to get a pet of some kind, maybe a few pets even. It's rather odd, it's almost like he knew you were coming."

Dwalin's ears twitched with interest as he watched the elevator doors shut with an unpleasant hiss. This Mr. Grey sounded like he was quite the confusing individual, almost as bad a certain grey wizard… His thoughts came to grinding halt. It couldn't be, could it?

The lift jerking was enough to bring him back to reality and he yowled in surprise, ears flattening themselves against his head in shame when he heard Bilba laughing.

"It's alright, we'll be home in a few minutes," she said as she stroked his back with her free hand," There's plenty of room and you'll have free run of my apartment and the roof. Actually, you could almost have run of the entire building if you wanted to, there's no one else renting here; which is odd considering this is prime property and Mr. Grey could make a small fortune if he wanted to. Who am I to judge, though?"

"You sound like a good judge of character to me," he told her petulantly, not that she could understand him," If he is the reincarnation of that daft old wizard, odd only begins to describe that pest…" He trailed off as he came face to face with a uniquely green door.

"It was the door that sealed the deal for me," she admitted to him as she dug in her pocket for her keys," I already knew I was going to take this place before, I would have been crazy not to, but that silly green door just made this place feels like home." The key turned smoothly in the lock and the door clicked open, revealing her apartment to his eyes for the first time.

Comfortable looking furniture was scattered around the room, interspersed with potted plants and piles of papers and books. Bookshelves lined the walls and the kitchen looked to be set up for someone who did a lot of cooking. It was a far cry from the comfortable smial she'd had in the Shire, but he supposed that this was probably as close to a Hobbitish home as she was likely to get in the modern world.

Humming quietly, Billa deposited him on the floor before hanging her jacket on the nearby coat rack. "Come on, I'll give you the grand tour."

The rest of the house was just as comfortable, he decided as he trotted obediently after his love. Everything looked so warm and welcoming, and she was nearly exactly how he remembered her. Her laughter, her chatter, the warm sparkle in her eye; that was something he would fight tooth and nail to protect. He would not fail her a second time.

Eventually, their tour led them to the bathroom and his ears perked in interest. While Mahal had graced him with information on this new world, there was nothing like seeing such wonders for himself. He examined the room carefully, mentally comparing any differences he could find between modern innovation and Dwarven ingenuity. The sound of running water made him turn his head from his inspection of the sink's plumbing and his ears perked up happily at the sight of the bathtub being filled with a low level of water.

"Now I know that cats don't really like water…." Billa began, only to be cut off by a large ball of fur racing by her to hop fearlessly in the tub.

_Oh, blessed maker_, he thought dreamily to himself as the warm water soaked through his fur, _this feels so good. _

A wondering laugh made him tilt his head back to watch his Billa through half-lidded eyes. She looked amused and rather relieved at his actions and he purred in pleasure at having made her happy.

"I take it back, obviously you don't mind baths," she chuckled as she knelt by the tub and picked up a bottle of shampoo," I'm actually very thankful for that as I doubt I would have been able to wrestle you for a bath if you hadn't wanted one."

Dwalin purred louder in agreement as Billa's questing fingers started to rub the liquid into his admittedly dirty fur. This had to be as close to Mahal's Halls as he could get on Arda, it just had to be.

"You have such lovely fur," she murmured," such a beautiful shade of brown, so dark and warm. Oh and look at these markings on your head, they almost look like tattoos. This tattered ear of yours just gives you the right addition to your character too."

If he'd still been a dwarf, he would have moaned at the feeling of his tattered ear being rubbed between delicate fingers. Ever since it had been mauled at the Battle of Moria, it had been more sensitive than any injury had a right to be; though thankfully it had passed being sensitive to weather conditions and had settled on being sensitive to touch. He wondered how Billa would have taken the news that if she had only touched his ears when he was a dwarf, he would have melted and done whatever she wanted him to.

"I dream sometimes," Billa murmured softly and he pulled himself away from his thoughts to focus once more on her face," and in these dreams, I see people whose names I know, but I can never remember meeting. One of these people was a warrior, a fearsome one, who carried a pair of great axes on his back. He looked so fierce, but he had such a great heart, one that was capable of so much compassion."

Dwalin's heart raced faster, did she know him? Could she see that he was here in front of her?

"I know that you're only a cat and that he was… something else; something ever so precious to me, not that he ever knew it. But still, I think I'll call you Dwalin, after him. What do you think?"

"I think that my own name sounds perfect for me," he meowed as his eyes twinkled with mirth. Carefully he bumped her hand with his forehead before he hauled himself back out of the tub to drip all over the floor.

"Oh do come here," she grumbled and snatched a towel off the rack to dry him with," Honestly, is this how things are going to be from now on?"

Dwalin merely chirped in agreement and continued to purr.

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.

It wasn't until much later after a scrumptious meal of leftovers from Billa's dinner (he'd wanted to cry when he realized that it was trout, cooked the same way it had been all those years ago) and a movie on the television (the next time Bilba left the apartment he was going to learn how to work the remote) that he started to see that maybe things weren't as all right as he'd thought they were.

Bilba had spent several moments creating a rough nest out of pillows and a blanket atop a comfy chair before she had placed him onto it. Naturally, he had instead hopped over onto her bed and lay down, he had just found her and he was not going to let her out of sight now. Bilba, however, seemed to disagree with him and quickly scooped him up and back onto the nest. He refused.

"Oh fine," she grumbled, throwing up her arms in defeat as he took a seat on the bed once again," You can sleep on the bed if you want but be warned, it's not going to be comfortable for you. I have a tendency to scream and thrash about in my sleep. I'm just as likely to kick you or roll over on you and I really don't want you to get hurt. So please, for my sake if nothing else, sleep on the chair."

The worried look on her face made his heart twist and he nearly did as she asked, but then a vision of her lying dead on a battlefield flashed before his eyes and he resolutely settled himself once more. Let her do her worst, he wasn't leaving.

"Alright then don't say I didn't warn you," Billa sighed, and oh she sounded so tired as she slipped beneath the covers and turned out the lights," Goodnight Dwalin."

_Goodnight, ghivashel. _


End file.
